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362 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 29, 2021
“What’s wrong, Sugar?”
“Nothing.”
I stepped closer. My hand went to her hip and I gave her a squeeze. I released the pressure but didn’t let go.
“Easy to read, remember?” I prompted.
“Nothing’s wrong. Just watching you two together and hearing Remy ask if he can go with you to the store made me think about all he’s missed, but at the same time I’m happy he hasn’t missed the big stuff.”
Fuck, that felt good.
“Big stuff?”
“He can ride a bike; he missed you teaching him that. But that was something I could handle. He wants to learn how to ride a dirt bike, something Michael’s been wanting to teach him and I’ve been dragging my feet. He can throw a baseball but not well because I’m not big into sports. He’s never picked up a football. He loves to draw and do puzzles and put together Legos—I can cover those things but there’s so much I can’t teach him and I was dreading him getting older and needing a dad and not having you that I felt guilty for all the ways I was going to fail him.”
Brooklyn stopped, inhaled a deep breath, and settled her hand on top of mine before she finished. “So seeing him next to you asking you how to fix a sink—which obviously I have no idea how to fix—I was thinking how good it felt knowing you were here to give Remington all the things you can give him. Things that I can’t.”
No, that didn’t feel good—that felt fucking great. So great, I couldn’t vocalize how phenomenal it felt knowing that while I’d missed a lot I wouldn’t be missing any more. Not another day, hour, or second.
“You good with me teaching him how to ride a dirt bike?”
Brooklyn frowned and pinched her lips.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“He’s four,” she noted.
“Your call.” Brooklyn heaved a sigh and for once I couldn’t read her. Which was unfortunate because that meant I was unprepared for her to rock my world.
“Our call. Mine and yours.”
“Sugar—”
“I was dragging my feet coming up with excuses to put Michael off. My dad taught me how to ride. I remember every moment of it.”
I didn’t understand—if Brooklyn knew how to ride a dirt bike why hadn’t she taught Remy?
“Not tracking. Why didn’t you take Remy out?”
“I’ve never taken him to a movie at a movie theater. I’ve never taken him to Silverwood. I’ve never taken him out on the lake,” she weirdly admitted.
“Baby, you say that like you’ve committed a mortal sin.”
Brooklyn’s head tipped back and with her eyes brimming with tears she whispered, “I was waiting for you.”
Un-fucking-done.
My lungs seized and my body locked.
The atmosphere in the small bathroom charged when two words rasped from my throat.
“Come again?”
“I was waiting for you,” she repeated. “Family memories. Stuff that I didn’t want to do on my own with Remy. It was selfish not giving him—”
I didn’t give her a chance to finish. Unpolite and unyielding, I slammed my mouth down onto hers. Brooklyn gasped, and not being the sort of man who missed an opportunity, my tongue pushed past her lips.
Good Goddamn.
Little feet pounded down the hall, ending a kiss that wasn’t just a kiss but a welcome home. A glide of tongues. A sample of what was to come. The best thing I’d tasted in five fucking years.